Twisted Realities
by Amethyst Ocean
Summary: It's a series of short stories where everything has been tipped on its head! Contains severe AU and gratuitous abuse of our favorite characters. Chapter 7: When stealing, gambling, tobacco, and fighting don't quite work out for a pirate, what else will?
1. Pretty in Pink

**Author's Note: **Ladies and gentlemen, I bring to you an exceptional style of fan fiction that I have rarely seen in this particular category of cartoons. It's a little weapon I'd like to call the "Alternate Universe", better abbreviated as "AU". In this scenario personalities, locations, worlds, and all of reality will become _severely_ twisted. This latest project will include several short stories, each one taking place in an alternate universe.

Will the characters be OOC? Most likely. Will the situations be bizarre? Naturally. Do these stories pose as potential dangers to your health? That last one's up for you to decide.

Read at your own risk. ;)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Total Drama Island.

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**Pretty in Pink**

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Head held high, poise unbroken; she sauntered rhythmically through the crowd of onlookers, sashaying her hips ever so dangerously. After all, if they were going stare, why not give them something good to look at?

Decked in expensive makeup and priceless designer clothes, she was indeed a sight for sore eyes. The way her glittery, pink tube top hugged her chest definitely turned heads, and if that didn't do the trick, then her equally pink miniskirt would surely get the job done.

She inwardly smiled to herself as she heard them all sigh and murmur, taking in her greatness. If the circumstances had been any different, she would have gladly shown her approval. But she had to act like she didn't care; not saying that she did.

It was _key_ that she stay away from anyone who wasn't as popular as she was. Talking to the nerds, geeks, losers, and freaks simply wouldn't do. In fact, even being around anyone beneath her social status would not only cost her her reputation but her dignity as well.

And she had brutally crawled her way to the top for years, finally receiving the position she rightfully deserved. She was _the _"Supreme Queen Bee" of her high school. She called all the shots. No one had first say over her.

Absolutely no one did. And she'd be damned if she let anyone get in her way and steal the limelight from her. So socializing with people of lesser importance was obviously a big no-no. That would bring her down no sooner than a massive earthquake would leave a city in ruins, and she just couldn't afford that.

She knew this code she had to abide by seemed harsh. Hell, life was harsh, cruel, cold, unforgiving, and whole lot of other things. But if she was truly better than them—which she knew she was—then she had to play the part.

And boy did she play it well.

_Brrriiinngg!!_

She suddenly jerked her head up at the abrupt sound of the bell ringing in her ears. Her eyes quickly peered over at the diamond studded watch wrapped securely around her wrist. A frown settled on her pretty little face as she glanced at the time. She was late.

A few quick turns and rounded corners later found herself right outside the door of her next class. She swiftly combed a delicate hand over her already flawless raven hair and rotated the knob slowly.

Immediately, pencils dropped and the blank faces of her peers looked up to the sound of her new, pink high heels clacking noisily against the floor. She firmly placed her pink manicured hands on her hips as she swung her pink tote bag over her shoulder, eyeing everyone.

They were all gazing up at her in admiration and awe, although some had done it out of fear. The girl had always known how to make a dramatic entrance that would entirely demand for each person's attention.

Including the teacher's.

"You're tardy," his masculine voice announced, slightly irritated by the unexpected disruption.

She rolled her dark eyes, "I know." As if she wasn't already aware of that.

"Well, please take your seat in the empty desk over there," he ordered, pointing to said desk.

She calmly did as she was told and situated herself in her chair, allowing herself to be comfortable.

"Oh, and one more thing."

She carefully peeked upwards at hearing the teacher address her once more.

"Please, don't be late again…… _Gwen_".

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**A/N: **Bet you didn't see that coming did you? :P


	2. Dangerous Play

**Author's Note: **Alright, folks. I'm back with another AU ficlet. This next one is actually the whole reason why I decided to start this series in the first place.

So, before you carry on reading this, I've got to warn you. This chapter is _extremely _dark and definitely something I've hardly seen written in the TDI section. After all, it's rated T for very good reasons and this is one of them.

With that being said, enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Fortunately, I do not own Total Drama Island as I'd probably mess it up.

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**Dangerous Play**

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Giggles.

Their game had started with giggles.

He shut his eyes painfully as he began running jaggedly through the building, a long trail of blood following behind him. He winced with every leap and bound, his muscles absolutely sore from overexertion and the incredible pain in his limbs.

He couldn't understand it. He wouldn't understand it—_refused_ to understand it.

Because of her, he was losing all his blood. Because of her, both his arms and legs had unbelievably deep gashes, violently spewing out crimson fluid. His crimson fluid.

He viciously swore under his breath as he heard another giggle within his range. Oh, God, she was getting close. Really close.

His breathing grew heavier as he forcefully withdrew his last amount of energy, sprinting literally for dear life. If he wished to escape, he had to give it his all. He didn't want to die yet. He was far too young and had his entire life ahead of him.

But by the way things were turning out, it seemed that a certain someone severely disagreed with him. She wanted him dead, and she was fiercely intent on fulfilling this sick dream.

His cerulean eyes suddenly widened as he spotted the image of a door up ahead. Could it be? The way out? There was only one means of knowing for sure. He'd have to check it out for himself.

However, he nervously gulped as a dreadful thought flickered across his mind. What if it wasn't an exit? What if it led to nothing? He'd only be trapped, and with a deadly menace right on his tail.

He swallowed hard as he finally came to a decision, increasing his pace. He was going to try that door. It was really his only hope, but he knew there was so much to lose.

Like say his life, for instance.

But it was a risk he was going to have to take. As far he knew, there was no other way out. This was it.

After merely a matter of seconds, he reached his destination, sweaty hands fervently twisting and pulling on the knob. He opened the door expectantly, heart vigorously pounding in his chest, only to be met with…

A dead end.

Panic-stricken, he resumed his cursing even more as he desperately attempted to figure another way out.

But then, he felt his heartbeat stop instantly as he froze dead in his tracks at the sound of maniacal laughter from behind him.

No! No! _NO! _

This couldn't be happening! This just couldn't be happening! This simply had to be an awful nightmare! This was not real! This was _not_ real!

He unexpectedly let out a startled yelp as he felt himself being pushed from behind and in the blink of an eye, pinned mercilessly up against the wall. He frantically tried struggling and attempted to pry himself away as his offender's nails dug deeper into his flesh.

But it was no use. He was far too weak and exhausted to be putting up any decent amount of a fight. Besides, his many injuries and wounds were beginning to take their toll on his body.

Now completely helpless and at a loss, he found her standing there facing him in all her sadistic glory. She was his attacker, his enemy, and dare he say it, his former lover.

He had to stop this. He absolutely had to end this before she ended him.

Mustering up all of his courage, he feebly managed a despairing plea from out of his lips, "Ple-plea-please, Courtney! You don't have to do this! Please! I'm begging you to stop!" At this, tears rapidly began forming in his eyes, slowly trickling downwards and mixing with the blood on his face.

Courtney's dark eyes remained sinister and uncaring as she spoke coldly, "I'm sorry, Duncan, but I have to finish our game. It just can't be left hanging like this."

And with those final words having been said, she steadily inched her way toward him, a bloody, battered knife gripped firmly in her hand.

Duncan shrieked and sobbed as she came closer, wanting more than anything for this to stop.

Their game had started with giggles.

But it ended with a scream.

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**A/N: **Okay, I know you're probably creeped out of your mind right about now concerning the unprecedented prospect of good girl Courtney slaying bad boy Duncan, so I thank you all who read this fiction thus far. Kudos to you!

But don't worry. For those of you that like much lighter themed stories, I _guarantee _that one will soon be heading your way.

Thank you for reading once again and please, review!


	3. So Not My Hero

**Author's Note: **Man, I love you guys. I really do. All of your reviews are seriously making me feel incredibly bubbly inside. Won't be long now before I start getting a big head…

So, this next little chapter is for all of you who have so kindly been reviewing! Thank you so much! The feedback is most appreciated!

**Disclaimer: **Even in my wildest dreams, TDI could never be mine.

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**So Not My Hero**

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If there was anyone in this entire universe who certainly felt unhappy, it was the disgruntled figure standing on the sidewalk, angrily clutching a newspaper. He scoffed in utter disgust and indignation as he scanned over the front headline of today. It read:

_Not So "Super" Maniac Strikes Again!!_

_At approximately 11:30 PM yesterday of Thursday night, the deranged, self-proclaimed "superhero" menace of Canada has done it again! Our sources and other news reports claim that he was last seen attempting to juggle a building with his bare hands by using his abnormal super strength. Witnesses to this extraordinary event allegedly proclaim that a large skyscraper had mysteriously caught on fire and that this so called "superhero" was trying to put it out._

_Apparently, it didn't go over so well for the super powered entity as he dropped the building in midair, only barely catching it by some miracle before it hit the ground. Fortunately, no one was severely injured or wounded, but it took quite an army of firefighters and police officers to put out the fire and clean up the huge mess this maniac left behind. We are still unsure of whether his "heroic" blunder was an accident or not, but one thing stands clear: The "superhero act" must immediately come to an end!_

"_This isn't the first time this psycho has tried to save the day," Mr. Maclean, CEO of Wawanakwa Construction Industries, confided us. "Whenever there's something crazy going down with the world he always tries to fix things by using his totally killer superpowers. But the dude is sooo lame, he doesn't even know how to use them right! I mean, seriously! Because of him, my company has had to repair several cities and buildings in the past few months. I mean, come on, with powers like those how hard can it be to save the day?! Like really, he has some serious mental issues. But at least one good thing has come out of all his screw-ups; I'm getting richer!"_

_And many others alike agree with Mr. Maclean as the destruction of their cities only gets worse with each and every passing day the maniac is loose. Authorities have finally decided that next time this lunatic appears to be in the process of "rescuing" something; sheer force will be used to eliminate him from the premises. We can longer stop to speculate whether or not he really is the hero he insists on being. From now on, government officials in Canada are taking precautions as to regard him not as a superhero, but as a super villain._

As soon as his eyes found the very last word in that sentence, two red laser beams emitted from them, disintegrating the paper in his hands to a mere pile of ash. He began heaving and wheezing heavily as hot-blooded rage consumed him.

_Idiots! _Could they not see that he had been trying to help them?! Could they not see that he had been risking his life to save theirs?! And for what?! To be treated like some—some sort of _monster_?!

GOSH!!

After everything that he's done, how dare they call him a super _villain_?! He was not a super villain! He was a hero—a superhero!

But for some reason, they just couldn't see that! Why? Why could they not see it?

Was it because of all those previous slip-ups he had made? He meant absolutely no harm by them! In fact, his only intention had been to use his superpowers for good and help the whole of humanity! He didn't mean to cause even more damage! Those were all accidents and mistakes!

But they didn't understand that. They were simply too arrogant and full of themselves to realize that he had only been trying to help.

This bothered him very greatly. How could they not recognize a hero when they saw one? Now every resident in Canada was probably against him, and the government wanted him exterminated!

There just had to be a way to clear his name and prove himself worthy of a hero! There just had to be! But what?

He quickly glanced around, inspecting the area for any signs of danger. If he could only find someone or something in trouble, he'd have it made! As usual, he'd come to the rescue and play the hero, and this time he wouldn't make some stupid mistake.

No, not this time. He was prepared! He was more than ready! He was tough! He was—

Suddenly, his thoughts of redemption were unexpectedly interrupted by a commotion of fearful screams behind him. He spun around, only to knock into a plump woman who was shrieking hysterically.

"AHHHHHHH!! OH, MY GOD! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!"

"What seems to be the problem, ma'm?" he asked calmly, adjusting his square-rimmed glasses to the bridge of his nose.

"A GIGANTIC ASTEROID IS HEADED FOR EARTH!!" she screeched, pointing in the direction of said flying rock.

And bizarrely, as luck would have it, she was right. A rather large flaming asteroid was rapidly hurtling straight towards Earth.

He couldn't help the gleeful smile that graced his lips as he heard the Hallelujah Chorus. This was it! This was his chance! Now he'd be able to prove to everyone that he was indeed a hero by saving the entire world!

"Don't despair fellow citizens!" he shouted in what he hoped had sounded like a fairly masculine voice. "I, Super Harold, will save you all from the catastrophe that befalls us!"

In a flash of blinding light, the once nerdy redhead transformed into an equally nerdy version of himself with only a ridiculous wardrobe change to tell the difference. Decked in pink, skin tight spandex overlapped by tacky blue shorts, gloves, boots, and a cape, Super Harold was up and ready for action!

He puffed his chest proudly as the metallic blue emblem of a curly 'H' shone brightly on his torso. Then, before anyone else could utter another syllable, Harold took off into the sky.

His airspeed could be likened to the velocity of a rocket ship, so in no time, the dutiful geek found himself floating in outer space, gazing down at the world in awe.

"What a remarkable view," he mumbled to himself. "It would be a darn shame if that asteroid destroyed Earth. But I won't let that happen!" And with this noble valiant cry in mind, he raised his hand to his forehead as if to salute his promise to the world.

But in the process of raising his hand, he clumsily knocked off his glasses as well.

"Gah! Hey, my glasses!" he yelled as the galaxy became an incredibly blurry image.

He reached out desperately, feeling nothing but the lack of oxygen around him. His glasses must have been but a mere foot away, yet with every second that ticked he knew they'd only be drifting farther and farther.

Suddenly, Harold's ears perked up at the sound of a large object whizzing by, feeling the intensity of its heat radiate towards him. The asteroid was going to hit the earth and he couldn't see!

Now blinded and confused, the superhero struggled to catch a glimpse of the asteroid so he could blast it with his laser vision. He strained his eyes as best as he could to see…

The colossal thing right in his face!

Without a second thought and using all of his might, Harold vigorously aimed his laser vision at the enormous floating rock. As soon as his beams impacted with the asteroid, he heard a massive explosion as his target was obliterated into pieces.

Feeling a great sense of accomplishment, Harold began to turn back home but stopped short as he felt himself bump into something small. He carefully grabbed said object and instantly realized by the shape of it that they were his glasses.

"Excellent!" he cheered as he put them on, immediately loving how well his eyes adjusted to the view around him.

But as soon as he examined his surroundings, he was met with an exceptionally terrible sight. To his unspeakable horror, the asteroid was still heading towards Earth, perfectly intact and only a few miles away!

But, wait! He didn't understand! If the floating rock he had demolished wasn't the asteroid then what did he—

His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he took in the sad truth; he had blown up the moon instead!

He fearfully gasped in dread as he swiftly remembered—he still hadn't destroyed the asteroid!

In an amazing surge of adrenaline, Harold plunged towards the—

_BOOM!!_

The boy almost fainted at the scene displayed before him. The asteroid had completely collided with the earth and absolutely annihilated it. The blue planet had been mercilessly eradicated off the face of the universe.

Harold winced in discomfort as he saw what little remained of his beloved home.

"Oh, crap," he cringed. "That's gonna leave a mark."

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**A/N: **xD Oh, Harold. Sweet, sweet Harold. What would we do without you?

Please, review!


	4. Reflection

**Author's Note: **¡Hola mis amigos! I have returned with another AU! Sorry if this one took too long to come out. I'll only be able to update at least once a week for this week (in my utmost "brilliance" I enrolled myself in summer classes). Hooray... -.-

Anyways, this latest chapter is somewhat depressing. However, something can definitely be learned as it actually conveys an important message that's worth giving some attention.

On that note, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Go figure. I don't own it.

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**Reflection**

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It seemed as if the flashbacks purposely replayed in her mind, over and over again in sick, perverse torture.

For every time she dared look back and for every time she recalled that day, a never ending bombardment of "should've, could've, would'ves" knocked her straight into another depression. The questions would never cease, and the guilt would never quite leave her.

On countless instances, she would desperately ask herself, "Why? Why did he do it?"

Was it because she hadn't been good enough for him? She had always been aware that he was way out of her league. Maybe that must have been it. She simply hadn't been worth his time, and he'd only just realized it.

Or perhaps he had done it because she hadn't told him she deeply loved and cared about him adequately enough. Obviously, mentioning her true feelings of affection and adoration over three times a day had not been a sufficient amount for him.

But then again, the more that she thought about it, it seemed as if she had never been able to ever completely fulfill his needs.

And maybe that was why her trusted boyfriend of two long years had left her for another girl. She had been selfish. That's all there was to it.

One tear. Now two.

Now several crystal droplets rained down from her eyes as bitter realization hit her full force.

He had been unfaithful because something was wrong with her. It had clearly been all her fault. If only she had been perfect—perfect for him.

She noisily began to hiccup as her silent crying racked into uncontrollable sobs.

Whenever she cried or felt this badly, there was no other thing in this entire world capable of bringing her peace other than her favorite comfort food.

Without a moment's hesitation, she hobbled hungrily into the kitchen and stumbled awkwardly towards the freezer. A chunky hand gently grasped one of the door's handles as it was pulled wide open, a chilly breeze nipping at her face.

She smiled softly at the welcoming sight that greeted her; a brand new bucket of vanilla ice cream coated in a various assortment of crunchy nuts and chocolate chips. She could always count on something sweet and delicious to cheer her up.

Tentatively, she searched for the ice cream scooper hidden in the oak wood drawers. Once she found what she was looking for, she removed the lid from the frozen ice cream container, sat down, and dug herself a fairly large scoop.

After merely two minutes of ice cream inducing bliss, she realized she had finished her portion. That cold ice cream had tasted incredibly wonderful as it cooled her internally and sent her on a grand journey of pleasure and scrumptious satisfaction.

Glancing downwards at the now empty bowl resting on her lap, her stomach experienced an all too familiar feeling. She was extremely full.

But as her darting eyes continued to innocently examine the little porcelain bowl for any uneaten fragments, she subconsciously felt around for the scooper and began piling it up again.

Soon enough, the creamy, tasty dessert slipped inside her mouth, lick after lick and bite after bite.

"Oh, what the heck?" she shrugged aloud, a happy grin forming on her round features. "I might as well eat the whole thing. After all, my family hates this flavor anyways, and I can't let all this ice cream go to waste."

And with that selfless statement, she contentedly ran upstairs into her room for some much needed privacy, ice cream bucket and scooper clutched eagerly in her arms.

Once she made it into the confines of her own personal haven, she plunked herself comfortably onto her bed, indulging herself with the rest of the ice cream. Already, she could sense her mood drastically changing into that of a pleasant one. Her lips tenderly curved upwards as the sugary delight immediately made her feel much better.

But as quickly as she became placated and serene, she soon felt herself drifting into a slight state of gloom as she longingly peered inside the now entirely empty container.

Her bloated form distinctly told her that her body couldn't handle any further food consumption. But her mind screamed zealously for another treat to eat.

And so, just like that, she promptly stood up and moved to retrieve some more delectable delicacies from her refrigerator. However, on her way out something unpleasant abruptly forced her to stop and stare.

Her reflection.

She sighed miserably as she scrutinized herself reluctantly.

Protruding abdomen, bulging hips, flabby thighs; there was really only word that came to mind when concluding her body shape. Simply putting it, she was overweight.

A frown replaced her once happy expression and suddenly, all her self-esteem flew straight out the window. She grimaced a bit more as she studied her appearance.

She absolutely hated how she looked. It was so… so… _unflattering_, to say the least.

Shaking her head sadly, she began to walk away—that is, until she heard a voice.

"I know why he dumped you," the sultry voice declared nonchalantly, catching her attention.

She rapidly spun around, startled, and gasped at the eerie scene of her mirror image actually speaking to her.

"H-how?" she stuttered, eyes growing wide, mouth agape.

"How what?" her reflection asked as she arched an eyebrow, examining her nails with disinterest.

"H-how are you t-talking to me?" she questioned warily, taking a few steps back.

"The same way dogs bark, cats meow, and birds chirp," she smiled crookedly as she said this. "I'm human too—except, I'm imperceptible to touch and to anyone else who isn't you."

The girl merely blinked at her wordlessly, completely dumbfounded over the strange situation at hand.

"You know, you can do yourself a huge favor and stop gawking at me like some sort of idiot," the mirror replied smugly, highly amused.

Silence.

"Okay, look," her reflection deadpanned, crossing her arms in newfound annoyance. "I'm like your conscience, or your guidance. Savvy?"

She slowly nodded so as not to agitate her "conscience".

"Good," she replied curtly, displaying her approval. "Now, about your ex-boyfriend—"

"What about him?" she immediately cut her off, wanting to know everything.

Big mistake.

She suddenly cringed as her reflection shut her eyes angrily as she muttered under her breath, "Let me finish, _freak_. I haven't even started."

She whimpered slightly at the harshness in her tone. Her mirror image undoubtedly possessed an awfully terrible temper. This was far different from the way she herself would behave.

"Now," her copy resumed, having calmed down, "because I'm just _so _nice, I'm going to tell you why your dear old bf dumped you."

Stillness penetrated the air, as she waited patiently for what her replica was going to say.

After what seemed like several hours, her double finally answered, a sweet, sinister smile curling upwards onto her lips.

"He dumped you because," her almond eyes glinted evilly, "you're _fat_."

Now her mirror image was grinning wickedly, expecting an outburst of tears and snuffling.

But to her great disappointment, the young teenager before her did not cry. No, instead she shook her head, quietly laughing earnestly.

"That's not why he broke up with me," she sincerely informed her counterpart.

"Oh, no?" her eyes narrowed dangerously as she placed her hands on her hips.

"No," she confidently affirmed her twin, meeting her dispassionate features. "When he broke up with me he told me exactly why. He said it was because the spark we once had disappeared."

An uproarious shout of laughter bubbled from her reflection's throat as she went into hysterics by her words. The sound was something horrifying and unnerving as her cruel giggles of defilement sent chills running up and down her spine.

"Oh, _Heather_," she nastily cackled, her menacing orbs burning into her skin, "you are just too much! Oh, God, it's hilarious how you actually fell for that! Oh, man!"

By now, her replica was gleefully clutching her sides as she tried to regain her bearings.

The real Heather glared heatedly at the baleful copy, cheeks lighting aflame.

"Shut up!" she demanded. "You're nothing but a jerk! There is _no _way you're supposed to be me!"

At this, her newfound opposite smirked in a deliriously twisted fashion, loving Heather's oncoming anger. "Oh, you're right," she sneered. "But you're also wrong!"

Heather watched this dark shadow in resentment as she instantaneously snapped her fingers, a purple swirling vortex claiming her oversized figure. As rapidly as the swirls had appeared, they subsided, leaving Heather absolutely slack-jawed.

In her reflection's place proudly stood an unbelievably drop-dead gorgeous Heather. She owned a wonderfully slimmed and toned body, masked graciously by a flowing white gown. Her long raven hair hung majestically over her shoulders, grazing her bare arms. Her eyes sparkled dazzlingly and she was positively glowing. A bright light emanated from her very being, but the vast darkness of her soul still remained, cleverly concealed inside.

"How do you like this version of yourself, now?" she inquired slyly, twirling her dress in a teasing manner.

Heather proved speechless as she gazed at her stunning self, too shocked to say anything.

The attractive Heather smirked deviously as she noticed the faltering on her counterpart's behalf.

"You know," she furtively murmured, threading her ebony locks with her nails, "you could look like this too."

She suddenly paused and looked down at her literal self. Seeing that she was still paying attention to her little charade, she continued, wicked resolve in mind.

"I mean, it wouldn't take much. Just some simple puking and starving yourself to death would get you skinny and beautiful in no time. And plus," she casually flaunted her goodies, "the boys would go crazy for you. You'd be amazing and with all that beauty, you could rule everyone with an iron—"

"No!" the other girl interrupted forcefully, furiously shaking. "You're asking me to change myself and be something that I'm not! Well, let me tell you something you _slut_, I won't do it! I like myself just the way I am and so does everybody else!"

Her reflection looked taken aback as Heather flailed her arms wildly in indignation and upset.

But this only made the twisted manifestation grin in malice. "It was about time you snapped you big lard," she snickered.

"For some reason, I actually knew that you'd react this way; all noble and retarded, I mean. But face it fatty, you're just an overweight loser who can't even admit her ugliness to herself! You make me laugh, thinking that people really prefer you in this disgusting form. No wonder your boyfriend dumped you! Don't you get it? Nobody likes obese failures such as yourself! You're a disgrace to the beautiful society we live in! You're a hideous error that hasn't been properly erased! You're a—"

A loud wailing sob pierced through the air as Heather stormed out of her bedroom, crying for all she was worth. Those words had brutally stung her and left painful marks engraved in her brain. She would never look at herself the same way again.

She almost tripped as she navigated herself into the bathroom, hastily grabbing her toothbrush and a scrunchie. Hurriedly, she tied her raven tresses into a sloppy ponytail and crouched nearby the white toilet. Heather stopped hesitantly as she slowly stared at her reflection in the water.

Chubby, fat, cow, whale—all those harsh words sank viciously into her thoughts, allowing her to finally make up her mind.

In one swift movement, she violently jammed the end of her toothbrush down her throat, jabbing her uvula repeatedly until—

_BLEEEEEGH! _

—she threw up.

Meanwhile, in the very room next door, one evil reflection could be heard howling with laughing, having at long last corrupted her victim; her own self.

And for the duration of that entire soulless night, all that could be heard in this house were the nauseating sounds of wretched vomiting and a toilet flushing.

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**A/N: **This is probably one of the deepest things I have ever written. It has so much meaning and sentiment behind it.

What I want everyone to understand is that no matter your size, shape, or appearance, you are an incredibly beautiful person just the way you are. What see you in your reflection has absolutely nothing on the true being that lives on inside.

Don't change yourself because the world says you need to "live up to their standards". Don't abide by their regulations, but abide by your own morals and beliefs.

Go by what _you _think is right.

Thank you, for reading this twisted reality! Please, review.


	5. Binary Revelations

**Author's Note: **…Wow, after _all_ this time—it's another update!

It's been _way_ too long, and I truly apologize for that! I'm absolutely positive you've all heard this excuse a million times, but school has decided to once again make its grand entrance into my life. I'm terribly sorry to announce that because school has already begun I will literally be unable to update all of my stories for various periods of time.

_However_, due to Thanksgiving being today (Happy Turkey Day!), I have been granted a vacation. Therefore, I will personally see to it that I pull off writing more of these stories within the time I have to spare.

Yet, regardless… I still feel awful for keeping all of you waiting for so long. It also hurts me to say, but another reason I haven't written anything in a long while is because I've been dealing with so many stressful occurrences in my life, my muses have all but appeared. I've just been waiting for the glorious moment until I would once again find myself completely immersed in the writing spirit, which I'm happy to say has finally come to me.

Lastly, thank you to all of my wonderful readers and reviewers who have continued to partake in my stories. None of you could even fathom how fantastic each and every one of you happen to be. You're all so incredibly amazing and I truly appreciate you for it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Total Drama Island, blah, blah, blah.

But I do own this plot, _New Hopes High_ _School_, and _staff_. ;)

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**Binary Revelations**

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It was a restless, hot evening in June as Mr. Maclean sat dejectedly in his comfy swivel office chair, the intense summer haze finally beginning to take its toll on him. Head propped in a dull fashion upon his enclosed fists, he wore an expression of utter boredom, uselessness, and sadness.

Unlike the majority of teachers, faculty, and staff working at New Hopes High, he himself had been feeling rather disheartened by the calling of summer break. Whereas professors and pupils alike had enthusiastically charged throughout the entire building at the sound of the final bell signaling three beautiful months of freedom, he had only felt apathetic and downcast.

No, to put it simply, he had not been happy one bit. Because more than anything, the renowned school counselor of New Hopes High School absolutely loved all the students who attended it and only wished summer hadn't arrived so soon.

Counselor Maclean, or "Counselor Clean", as most people liked to call him, was _the_ nicest man anyone living on this earth could ever meet. He was incredibly kind, always compassionate, and extremely intelligent. Why, the guy could convert the most vile, sinister, felonious criminals ever faced into good-doing, holy saints.

And it only accredited his wonderful reputation further as he abided by excellent morals and virtues, went to church on a regular basis, and most importantly, gave the best advice, guidance, and counsel to numerous groups of troubled teenagers everywhere. There had yet to be a single soul who had not seen the error of their ways under his vast and profound wisdom.

Ah, yes, he was truly a Renaissance man in every way, shape, and form. Not only was he fairly intellectual, but he was also fashionable in such a modest and sanitary way.

His hair was trimmed and combed in such a peculiar, yet neat little way that a shiny black curl formed itself delicately over his forehead. His usually happy, beady eyes now possessed a glazed over appearance under the circular glasses he wore, still looking professional nonetheless. A formal light blue dress shirt tucked into his soft beige pants were what naturally made up his attire, complete with matching business shoes. Occasionally, the counselor would carry around a heavily organized black suitcase for good measure, since he wished to appear as if he knew what he was doing, which he always did.

In summation, Mr. Maclean was more than just your average school counselor. He was inadvertently a teacher, a role model, a father, and a friend to most people in several ways. But perhaps most importantly of all, what everyone recognized about Mr. Maclean the most was that he so dearly loved the youth. He knew deep down inside that the teenagers he counseled carried heavy burdens in their hearts.

He didn't yell at them. He didn't hurt them. He didn't believe them to be failures or losers, but took them for misunderstood by their own society. Because Counselor Maclean remembered so vividly what it was like to find one's self crushed beneath the fists of pressure, for he had been a teenager himself. Yes, he had been there.

And he truly felt it his utmost duty to help others who may be suffering, in pain, or in need.

He closed his eyes slowly as he sighed, thinking to himself,_ "Which is why it kills me that I probably won't get to see my kids again until school resumes in autumn." _He mused this somewhat morosely, referring to his young patients as if they were his own flesh and blood.

"_Although I am glad that they have finally been given their summer," _he continued his deliberation,_ "the carefree season alone will not be enough to rid them of their problems. I want to be there to relieve their stress… they need me…"_

It was suddenly after he thought this that another voice came into his mind, mentally chiding him, _"No." _

It insisted, "_It's __**you **__who needs them. Every summer is the same. You sit at your desk with your head bent over in grief as you do nothing but miss those students." _

The voice then paused for a split second as its timbre grew an octave higher in disbelief, _"Why goodness!_ _Have you no shame?! Look at yourself! You're—"_

"—pathetic?" Maclean miserably muttered aloud, finishing the voice's sentence.

"_Well, no…"_ the voice continued, sounding a tad perplexed, _"I was merely attempting to let it be known how your pants have accidentally been drenched in spilled coffee for the last couple of minutes. Didn't you feel the warm burn seeping to your skin?"_

The counselor's eyes widened in disarray as his beady black orbs gazed downwards, the sensation of a steaming hot mocha drink causing him to jump up in surprise.

"_Honestly Maclean," _the voice snorted, _"what kind of person drinks hot coffee in the summer?"_

But he only growled in response as he plucked a number of tissues from the tissue box sitting on his desk, using them as the only implements to clean the mess up.

"_You missed a spot," _the jeering tone came again, annoying him further. If voices could smile, odds were, it probably was.

Yet, the school shrink quickly shook off his annoying inner self. He was much too preoccupied in trying to feverishly scrub his attire free of the evil coffee stain.

But every now and then, that same old voice would come again and again and again… and _again_…

"Ohhh!" the consultant let out an exasperated moan as he threw his arms skyward and sighed. "Why can't I just leave myself alone?" he wondered to himself, stopping as he realized how weird that sounded. He shook his head wearily, "Huh. Although, to be certain, it doesn't really feel as if I'm talking to myself. Every time I hear those other intrusive thoughts, it feels as if they don't quite belong to me. It sounds like my impish brother talking instead, minus the extensive vocabulary."

For a moment he vaguely pictured his brother hovering over his shoulder, wearing a naughty smirk of derision as he whispered insignificant jabs and miniscule sentences laced with mockery. But it was exactly this kind of childish taunting that bothered Mr. Maclean most. His brother had performed such unruly behavior unto him more than he could count.

Images of his younger days, specifically his childhood, flickered into mind as visions of his past were replayed. He saw his brother giving him atomic wedgies, throwing water balloons in his direction, stealing his favorite toys, tripping him down the stairs, pushing him into the mud, playing practical pranks on him, tying his shoelaces together, dressing him in girls' clothing while he was asleep, calling him names... and the list just went on and on.

The counselor shuddered at the latter idea—his brother calling him names. He hated being ridiculed by his brother more than anything.

He closed his eyes in frustration as he tried to hide the memories, his pain; the torture. His brother was undoubtedly the only one who had ever caused him to lose his overall peaceful nature and snap at him in rage.

His sibling would never know how much he had hurt him.

Suddenly, the musical ringing of a telephone brought the wounded man down to earth as he was shaken out of his reverie. Still feeling a little unfocused, he hesitantly reached for the phone and answered softly, "Hello?"

"Jakey! How's it going?" a smooth voice was heard over the line, causing his beady black eyes to widen in absolute shock and horror.

"C-Chris-Christopher?!" he wildly stammered, his once firm grip on the phone becoming a trembling one as he shook in place.

"The _one_ and _only_," the voice responded with a fine air of smugness, almost stopping Maclean's already rapidly pulsating heart. "Although, you think you could do me a favor," the man's voice came again, sounding somewhat irritated, "call me Chris, Jakey. Please, I _insist_."

But Maclean paid no heed whatsoever to Chris, struggling to find the right words, "But-but-but Christopher! How—no wait—why are you calling me?"

"What?" Chris responded in a sickeningly sweet tone that made his insides lurch. "I'm not allowed to have a conversation with my own twin brother?"

"W-well of course you can!" his brother quickly spluttered. "It-it was just-just so unexpected!"

"Huh," Chris muttered wryly, "you don't sound too happy about it."

"No! No!" his twin exclaimed hastily in his own defense. "Believe me, Christopher—what I truly meant to project was how _wonderful _a surprise this came to be!" he lied through his teeth, hiding his very dread through cheerful smiles.

"Yeah, well," Chris began excitedly, oblivious to his brother's fib, "you think me calling you is an awesome surprise, wait til' you get a load of the most radical footage known to man!"

"Footage?" he questioned, clearly confused. "Christopher, what do you mean?"

"Jakey, stop calling me Christopher," Chris whined. "It's _Chris_. Seriously, dude, Christopher makes me sound like an old man."

"I will stop addressing you as Christopher as soon as you stop addressing me as Jakey," he countered. "You know how I'm not very fond of nicknames. My name is _Jacob_," he corrected, "not Jakey."

"But I like Jakey better," he protested, pouting in his speech. "Jacob sounds so… so totally lame."

"Jacob is the name our _mother_ gave to me," the school counselor reminded coolly. "I happen to have appreciation for the names she chose for us by saying them correctly."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris waved his comment off, beginning to feel impatient. "Whatever. Just turn on your computer bra."

Jacob sighed as he wordlessly turned on his computer, prepared for the worst. _"At least he remembers how I always turn my computer off to conserve energy."_

"Is it on?" Chris asked suddenly.

"Yes," Jacob replied in a dull tone, "it's on."

"Great!" Chris exclaimed. "Now, just sit back and relax man, cause you're about to see some totally wicked stuff."

Jacob shook his head at Chris's narrow vocabulary, taking a seat in his office chair. Immediately as he did so, a large window opened up on his computer screen, containing several pixels worth of imagery and raw video.

"Now, just click on the play button when you see it," Chris instructed in an overly eager tone. Jacob could practically feel his brother beaming through the other line.

But before Jacob could do anything else, Chris's enthusiastic voice came again, "Jakey, I just gotta warn you that what you are about to see will change the history of reality TV shows as we know it!" The TV show host added silently to himself, _"Not to mention all the cash I'll be getting."_

His intrigue growing further, Jacob pressed on the play button as Chris said no more, the video footage saying it all for him.

As the first few seconds passed by, Jacob listened intently as he was introduced to and explained about Chris's latest show. He himself was starting to feel a little nervous. Especially about the part where his brother mentioned how twenty-two teenage campers would have to endure living in a dangerous, run down, animal-infested, camp together for eight weeks of their precious summer. As soon as Chris uttered his last few words before the theme song, Jacob was already trembling with anxiety. "…Who will crumble under the pressure?" came Chris Maclean's animated voice. "Find out here, right now, on Total Drama Island!"

Jacob gulped. He had a _really_ bad feeling about this.

Countless agonizing minutes had flown by and at almost every lethal instant, Jacob nearly fainted. Not only was he completely repulsed by the idea of adolescent teenagers fighting amongst themselves for primitive entertainment purposes, but he was also shaken indignantly by the fact that they were risking their very own lives for $100,000; worthless money that could never, _ever_ bring them back. When the scene of the campers engaging in a deadly one thousand foot dive off a cliff was presented before him, he fought every urge within himself to shut the computer off. He couldn't believe it! He just couldn't believe it!

To any ordinary simpleton, these twenty-two minutes would have been considered spent well as their amusement would have been well nourished. But Jacob Maclean felt very differently. In fact, Jacob Maclean wasn't even on the same page.

"So," his brother's proud timbre rang in the therapist's ears, "whadda' you think? Is it the most awesomest thing you have ever in your entire life seen?! Isn't it amazingly wicked?! It's this kinda stuff that's gonna make me—"

"Tell me, Christopher," whispered Jacob in an icy cold tone, "is it really worth the money? Are those millions, or maybe even billions of dollars you are going to produce really worth those children's lives?"

Chris blinked from where he was, "…Uh, Jakey, where are you going with this?"

"It was a simple question _Christopher_," he murmured quietly, emphasizing heavy stress on his full name.

"I… uh, yeah," Chris answered, bemused. "Wow, you really think I could make _billions_ off this show?" he added as an afterthought.

It took all the willpower Jacob had not to completely attack his identical twin via telephone. He gnashed his teeth together roughly as he harshly commented, "You may possibly be the most selfish, inconsiderate person I know. To think that you would even dare play with the lives of innocent teenagers for money and fame is despicable in and of itself. In all my years of being related to you brother, I was never even aware you could stoop _so_ low."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Chris shouted irately as Jacob's words sunk in. "What are you trying to say?! That I don't care?! Jakey, don't you see?! This show is gonna give off major ratings and for you to blow off all my hard work is totally uncool!"

"You just don't get the point, do you Christopher?!" he demanded angrily, hitting his fist against his desk. "You are tampering with innocent human lives! Someone could get hurt—no—_will_ get hurt if you continue to go through with this! I cannot even begin to describe to you how unbelievable you are! How could you do something like this?! You are not to air this episode to the public! Do you understand me?! You are not to show this episode to anyone at all! Cancel the show! It's not worth it!"

"Ugh!" Chris cried out in heated frustration. "This is _exactly _the type of reaction I was expecting from you! I had the crazy idea that once—just once—you would learn to loosen up and be proud of me! I thought that you had finally learned how to have fun and I thought that maybe you could just be happy for me! But I guess I thought wrong because you're still the same old stick in the mud you used to be when we were growing up!"

"What do you want Christopher?!" Jacob screamed furiously. "A gold medal for your efforts?! A shiny trophy for your supposed hard work?! Or maybe you'd like your very own holiday given in your fantastic recognition and honor?! Well, guess what, you were right when you expected this type of reaction from me! How could you, Christopher?! How could you?! You're belittling people, degrading them into the dirt with your derogatory schemes and condescending attitude! Just who do you think you are?!" He went on, "Did you even stop to think and consider the consequences of your actions?! You could be arrested for this! In many respects, what you're having those children do is illegal!"

"I've got my top lawyers all covered on this!" Chris retorted snappily. "What do you care anyway?! If I got arrested, it would be the best news of your life!"

"Don't you dare say that!" Jacob hissed as a feral growl escaped his throat. "I care _a lot_ about you Christopher, more than you can imagine! I care so much!"

"Then why are you yelling at me?!" Chris rasped out. "Why do you hate me so much?!"

"I don't hate you! I—"

"Let me finish!" Chris exclaimed, ignoring his interruption. "Why do you always have to scold me?! Treat me like I was some sort of little kid! I've never done anything good in your eyes! I'm always the bad guy; always the stupid one! Why?! Tell me why?!"

"Chris," Jacob murmured softly, regret beginning to fill his heart, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, and I'm sorry for making it seem as if I'm always out to get you. But the truth of the matter is, I'm not. I love you Chris, very, very much. As your brother, I'm merely trying to look out for you."

Several moments were passed in unadulterated silence as neither of the two breathed a single syllable, waiting for the situation to subtly sink in. Droplets of tension hung in the air, but not by much as the pair remained mute, thinking, processing; feeling.

Finally, after a few more minutes, Chris spoke, his demeanor light and languished; his tone a saddened one, "Jacob…" He paused, inhaling a bit before he continued, "this… this isn't only about the show… is it?"

Jacob's dark eyes rested on one of his hands at his twin's sudden speculation. He examined the precise outline of his fingers, the color of his skin, and its smooth gentle texture as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. He then sighed, "I… I… I don't know." His timbre was full of uneasiness, sickness—his insides felt as if they were on fire, violently exploding into brazen eruptions of despair.

But for once, Chris seemed to have finally understood his brother's discomfort, the lies; the way Jacob was practically squirming in his seat by now. An unforgivable twinge of remorse surpassed Chris as he was loaded with insurmountable guilt. Guilt, that, he had repressed deep inside him for many years.

In one final instant—one accidental moment—Chris Maclean developed the beautiful words his brother had needed to hear all his life, "I'm sorry."

Every letter replayed slowly within Jacob's mind, gradually processing; just barely making sense. His eyes glazed over as he seemed to stare off into space, losing himself to reality. Who knew? Who of all people would have known that Chris Maclean had a heart?

The ominous blaring of an empty dial tone brought Jacob back to his senses as he registered his call had been disconnected. Simply put, Chris had hung up.

But it was enough, for Jacob knew. He realized that even after all this, his brother would still go on with the show, regardless of his warnings. He was well aware that his brother would never change his sadistic, superficial ways, caring for no one but himself.

But as of now, none of it mattered. Because Jacob knew.

He knew it was enough.

* * *

**A/N: **Loved it? Hated it? Comments? Criticism? Was it _twisted_ enough for you? It was a fairly new concept as I don't think anyone here has ever written a story with Chris having a sibling.

;) I bet you didn't see _that_ coming.


	6. Stupid Logic

**Author's Note: **It's been quite some time, hasn't it? ^-^"

Not much to say for this one, other than the concept is pretty new for lack of better description.

**Disclaimer: **Never. Ever.

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**-**

**Stupid Logic**

**-**

A cool, gentle breeze lightly tickled my fair cheeks as I commenced with my daily jog, merrily basking in the call of a new day. It was eight in the morning, to be precise, and I was definitely looking forward to going to work, as I usually was.

Judging by my cheerful expression, anybody could tell I was in a happy mood, and with good reason. After all, I made a pretty decent living working at the _Wawanakwa Bookstore_, which was a peaceful, cozy little place where people would always relax, converse, and find the best material to read.

Humble salary and humble occupation—what's not to like about that? Personally, I never was one for the limelight, and valued modesty above every other moral. And my purity was evident by the simple and casual way I dressed, wearing nothing that could ever be considered skimpy or revealing; like those scandalous celebrities on TV or even some of the women I'd spot entering the bookstore in their incredibly tiny miniskirts and barely there shirts.

Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a little. And of course, I know I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, especially considering how I myself work at a bookshop.

But those women reminded me of the kind of girls that used to harass me in high school for refusing to conform to their snobbish, conceited ways. Just because I hadn't joined their incredibly pathetic clique and hadn't been an airhead like them, I had been bullied for choosing the life of a "nerd".

One girl in particular had stuck out from all the rest of that sleazy, promiscuous bunch. Her name had been Heather.

Involuntary shivers of fear ran down my spine as I remembered her dark, vindictive gaze burning vicious daggers into my skin. Her intentions had been anything but desirable, always malicious; always selfish; always _evil_.

But no matter what, I had never given in to her sinister schemes or any other pungent forms of peer pressure. I was better than that.

My jog began to gradually slow to a steady walk as I pushed those awful memories aside, having finally reached my destination. I smiled brightly at the large, bold letters above me, blaring the words "_Wawanakwa Bookstore_" for all to see.

Indeed, my grin could not have gotten any wider as I stepped inside, the hollow squeaking of my old tennis shoes now inaudible as their noise was muffled by plush green carpet. Almost nothing could ruin my joyful demeanor as I checked in at the employee desk, signing my name in cursive, and neatly pinning my employee nametag onto my chest.

"Hey, Linds, I was wondering when you were gonna get here."

Almost nothing could sour my wonderful mood. Except that.

I suddenly froze in my tracks as I cringed at the obnoxious voice belonging to the man right behind me. Bit by bit, I forcefully inched myself around so that I was facing his direction, managing a weak smile.

"Hey, Chris," I offered feebly, anxiously cupping my hands together out of habit. "It's eight thirty. I showed up on time, just as you wanted."

My blue eyes then widened in slight disturbance and disgust as I noticed his beady ones intensely roving the sight of my body up and down. I gulped.

I never appreciated it when he looked at me like that—as if I were some big, juicy piece of meat on display at a buffet table. And while I'd never openly admit I was attractive, I guess I had to be sort of cute for a guy like him to be taking such a lustful interest in my… ahem, _attributes_.

Normally, I would've slapped him silly for being such a pervert, if it wasn't for the fact that he was my boss and could fire me in an instant. Call me a sucker, but I loved my job way too much to ever risk losing it. And I'd be damned if that greedy bastard took it away from me. Despite having Maclean for an arrogant superior, this place had its many perks and they were far too precious for me to give up.

"_Lindsay_," Chris drawled out in a reprimanding tone, shaking me out of my distasteful opinions about him.

"Yes?" I questioned innocently, trying my best not to sound as annoyed as I felt.

"What's with the boring sweat suit get up?" he asked, a hint of irritation oozing from his lips.

"What do you mean?" I crossed my arms over my chest bitterly as I bit the inside of my cheek, attempting to control my anger. I knew what was coming next; this almost regularly occurred everyday, seeing as how he greatly disliked the baggy clothing I constantly wore.

"_Not revealing enough for you?"_ I inwardly mocked, my patience wearing thin.

"I mean," he continued, oblivious of my hatred for him, "why can't you find anything…" he paused right here, "…_nice_ to wear."

Oh, clever cover up Chris. That was smooth—as if I hadn't understood what you actually meant by that. I was not the stereotypical, idiot blonde girl he took me for.

"Why don't you try putting on something more flattering to your," he coughed suggestively, "_interesting_ figure." As he spoke, the shameless gleam in his coal colored eyes shone with an even greater longing—a licentious longing that was beginning to get on my nerves.

"Thanks, but no thanks!" I snapped back immediately, quickly bouncing away on my heel before I let my infuriation get the best of me. Better to avoid a serious confrontation, after all.

"I work with _children_," I reminded him pointedly, shouting over my shoulder as I strode to the opposite end of the room, "there's no need to look sexy when you're reading to a group of minors."

I vaguely processed his next few sentences, only catching faint words such as "come on", "babe", and the phrase "don't be like that".

I snorted. Don't be what exactly?

Conservative? Intelligent? Levelheaded? Unsatisfactory to your primitive urges? Well, excuse _me_ for having a little thing I'd like to call "personality". I liked to believe that there was far more to me than a welcoming show of breast cleavage.

Ignoring Chris, I sighed grimly, recollecting myself in the children's department of books where I'd usually read to the kids various fables of sorts. Overall, story time was my favorite hour, if only because I truly enjoyed enchanting them with magical fiction, finding unadulterated child-like bliss myself in watching their sweet features glow in absolute delight and awe at the tale of a fine narrative.

See? This was what I loved so much about working at the _Wawanakwa Bookstore_. It wasn't so much as the pay, but it was the people—mostly the children—that made me want to wake up every morning, eager to do my job. Books have always been my life, and now, so are the young ones that come here. I've developed a bond with each and every one of them, quite unlike any other I've ever had.

I wasn't about to be fooled by the superficial ways of ungrateful women like Heather, or shallow, egotistical men like Chris. They had no idea of what it really meant to take part in the beauty of life; instead, replacing its true beauty with the cheap, artificial lies of the world.

My head suddenly shot upwards as I witnessed a smug Chris wolfishly whistling at me, slyly attempting to admire my form from afar without attracting my suspicion.

Imbecile. Not if he made _that_ kind of noise.

I groaned in frustration, tiredly tucking my golden-haired locks behind my ears in exasperation. I wish I could make morons like him comprehend the real meaning of life. I wish I could open his mind to some much needed common-sense, but of course, he was too brainless.

He'd never fully recognize such easy logic—it was so easy, it was _stupid_.

Yet, despite its being undeniably stupid logic, I was afraid he'd never understand.

I hopelessly sighed once again as I caught him out of the corner of my eye, glimpsing at me for a second time.

No, I wistfully concluded. _His_ kind never would.

* * *

**A/N: **This was so much fun to write. Who would've thought? A s_mart_ Lindsay?

You just don't see that everyday. :P

Please, review.


	7. Wrecked

**Author's Note: **It's been an incredibly long time, I know. I haven't died yet, so please don't kill me. I've got nothing else to tell you other than this pathetic, frequently used excuse: Life just got in the way.

But enough with my inevitable pleas of forgiveness; let's just get this story started with. You guys deserve it, and I'm sure my apologies are becoming quite trite.

And once again, I wholeheartedly thank every single one of you who have loyally read and remained by this story through and through. You really have no idea how much it means to me, so thank you all very much. :)

Oh, but one quick warning before we begin: This chapter may be _dark _for some.

**Disclaimer: **I hold absolutely no ownership over the Total Drama Island series. But I_ do_ own all of these mini plots. That's something, right?

* * *

**-**

**Wrecked**

**-**

Bright, sapphire eyes met with the even brighter glow of the crystal blue firmament that comprised the serene horizon, dabbed with cotton white fluffs and feathery puffs of gentle clouds and hazy billows. A blinding light pierced through the wafting skies and brilliant rays of afternoon sunshine leaked everywhere, leaving even the dreariest and darkest of places faintly illuminated by fragile beams of glittering hope.

Yet, as radiantly gorgeous as the perfect day seemed, as a well-renowned captain of one of the world's leading eighteenth century pirate ships, Captain Geoff of _The Bloody Skull _knew that where there were misleadingly friendly clouds in the sky, a storm was brewing.

Never in his life had Geoff been one to underestimate such deceptively innocent tufts of ashen, white clouds—very much like the ones breezing before him—to be anything but dangerous omens of approaching inclement weather. In most any other area of the seven seas, these harmlessly fluffy clouds would be nothing more than what they already were—as light and pure as they were pleasant.

But in this particular portion of the ocean and in these particular currents, he knew that they were not so. Instead, he was well aware that at this time of day, the adorable nimbus clouds that blew in from the east only signaled oncoming, tumultuous thunderstorms for this area of the west.

The captain sighed. There really was no mistaking when it came to his own predictions. He knew the temperament of the sea as well as he knew the color of its cerulean waves.

So much for his glittering hopes.

Geoff groaned tiredly as he ran a calloused hand through his unruly, golden locks, biting his lip lightly in annoyance as he mulled pensively over the present situation at hand.

Right now, _The Bloody Skull_ was firmly anchored at the beautiful, tropical shores of the lush island paradise that every member of his crew unanimously referred to as _Island X_, due to the fact that they had intruded on these grounds at least five times and still had no idea as to what the name of the island was. In fact, he and his men hadn't even bothered to check if there were any people residing along such a mysteriously alluring coast because most of them had been convinced that absolutely no one else was living here.

If not for the trustworthy assurance of the ship's first-mate, also recognized as his best friend Duncan, Geoff would not have believed anyone else's claims and would have scouted the entire island himself for any remnants of human life.

But in the end, no one had blamed him. It was only natural and wise that Geoff wished to know what type of inhabitants were living in the places his crew "visited" in order to deduce whether they were worth killing or not.

If they were particularly gracious, Geoff always made sure to oblige his men never to engage in any harsh or inconsiderate behavior to the indigenous people they met, knowing quite well that every man on his ship could be quite fierce whenever they wanted to be.

But of course, that was the way all pirates were: selfish, greedy, dishonest, and sometimes utterly ruthless. However, Geoff liked to think that they were more of a cleverly _skillful_ bunch than a distastefully violent one. And despite his crew having been resentfully recognized by a good majority of their victims as possessing all of those hideous traits, for the most part, Geoff knew that they were his friends. As a proud and loyal captain, naturally, he had absolute faith in their nobler and righteous sides; especially in Duncan's, who had yet to fail him.

And speaking of the valiant daredevil…

The blonde began pacing back and forth on the still ship, fingers intertwined behind his back as his muddy boots pounded against the rusty, wooden floorboards, emitting noisy creaks and squeaks. His seemingly restless pacing was done not so much out of a nervous habit but rather, a reflective one. Such movement allowed him to think thoroughly as he kept his legs wandering, while his mind did all the pondering.

Today he had been kind to his comrades by allowing them a brief period of relaxation upon _Island X_, which was becoming one of their favorite vacation spots as of late. As soon as his ship had come into contact with its sparkling shores, his crew had dashed off from their positions—at the consent of their captain, of course—and had paraded wildly about the beach, kicking sand everywhere.

Geoff had found this amusing, as did Duncan who had stayed behind with his friend, watching the excitement unfold from their places on the deck. It had truly been an enjoyable sight and the men couldn't have been happier.

That had been, until Geoff had announced that he would remain on the ship while the guys had their fun. Almost immediately, there had been several loud shouts of protest from everyone, imploring that their captain come along with them and participate in their frivolous activities.

Yet, Geoff had denied them with his overused excuse of having to keep guard of their vessel should anyone try to hijack it. Of course, his damp attempt at trying to wriggle his way out of a few hours of mindless foolery had irked hard feelings on most of the crew, who had been unable to comprehend why their captain didn't want to spend time with them.

Thankfully, Duncan had been far more understanding than the other men and had left him with a fond good-bye wave and a sympathetic smile as he had lead the entire group onward to relish their paradise…

The blue-eyed man shook his head ruefully as he shoved away the mere image of minutes ago into the far recesses of his brain, pursing his lips into a thin line. Although he loved hanging out with his fellow pirates, he would achingly admit every now and then that he was ultimately growing tired of _being_ one.

He couldn't quite pinpoint it, but lately, the blonde would experience a subtle twinge of unhappiness pull at his heartstrings whenever he raided another helpless village or sparred with another round of Red Coats, spilling blood everywhere. For some inexplicable reason, he just didn't experience the pure, unadulterated _thrill_ he used to get when engaging in such crimes.

At first, he had passed off his sudden discontent as being his punishment for having such an annoyingly convicted conscience. But his theory so begged the question: Were pirates even _allowed_ to feel remorseful? Duncan had always told him that feeling guilt was a sign of horrible weakness, and should one ever sense a temporary guilt-trip coming on, it was best to bathe oneself in a frothy barrel of rum.

There was nothing that alcohol couldn't cure, or so, Geoff had been led to believe.

Yet, soon enough, as the weeks had passed after he had taken that advice, he had learned that Duncan's prescribed "medicine" hadn't been able to relieve him of these sudden feelings of foreboding (if not, he only acquired some of the worst headaches).

The captain had always known that there were severe risks and repercussions for being who he was and doing what he did, but it was moments like these in which he would apprehensively worry to himself if being a pirate was supposed to make him feel _this_ bad.

And in this instance, it wasn't simply making him feel bad, but _bad-bad_.

As in unmistakably terrible, up until the point where he wasn't even sure if he could handle the emotional stress that came with obtaining the reputation of being such a hardened thief, and an _almost_ murderer.

Geoff shivered frightfully at that last thought, involuntarily reminding himself of the time in which he had been so fixated on stealing the governor's money that in his greed, he had nearly left an innocent man headless…

He suddenly face palmed, groaning unevenly to himself. His shamefaced desire to resign as a pirate altogether was probably one of the only secrets he would never tell Duncan. Who knew what he would say to him? Who knew what he would do?

To Duncan, being a pirate was the best thing in the entire world. If his best friend aimlessly told him one day that he hated being a pirate and wanted to do something more meaningful with his life, well…

Geoff really didn't want to think about that.

Instead, he pushed his thoughts roughly aside as he shot one more glance at the dimming horizon, only realizing with the slightest sense of worry that the sky was now coated with various hues of oranges, blues, purples, and the softest tinge of pink. He would've considered it beautiful—his azure eyes widened—but those combinations of colors in the sky meant that it was sunset. And if it was sunset, then that meant he had been waiting on the deck of his ship for a little more than… _three_ hours!

His mind went crazy as he processed this disturbing information. Did that even make sense?! All he had been doing was thinking to himself… Surely he hadn't lost track of time by merely musing quietly.

No, not him! He never was one to get too carried away in himself… but then again, he _was_ best friends with Duncan; and people like Duncan were hard not to rub off of.

"_Damn_ it," he cursed under his breath—something he didn't normally do, "where are they?! I told them to come back _before _sunset! Not during, or any time after!"

Geoff grumbled irritably as he stared at the now darkening clouds again, reminding himself that all the signs were still there—it was all _too_ perfect weather for a dangerous storm. If his crew didn't return within about half an hour, giving them enough time to sail away before things could get worse, everything would spell utter disaster.

"Aha! Good one, man!"

Geoff's head suddenly jerked upwards at having heard the sound of boisterous laughter emitting from an all too familiar group of rowdy shipmates.

"Finally," he breathed a grateful sigh of relief as he pleasantly jogged off the ship and onto the grainy shoreline of _Island X_ to catch up with them.

"Captain!" Duncan cried excitedly as he sprinted across the yellow sand to greet his best friend. "Man, did you miss some fun!"

Geoff chuckled good-naturedly as he embraced Duncan with a heavy pat on the back, beaming at him elatedly, having caught Duncan's contagious smile.

"Ah, don't fret. I was fine as I waited here for all of you to get back. And what with this beautiful sunset," he grinned, his cerulean eyes gesturing to the slight warmth that comprised the ebbing horizon behind him, "I'm sure I didn't miss a thing."

Duncan merely shook his head in earnest as he affably disagreed, "Well, buddy, I beg to differ. I really have to tell you, we—"

"Ack! Where do you want this one, Duncan? It ain't exactly easy to carry!" the youngest and newest member of their notorious bunch squeakily called out, grunting in concentrated determination as he lugged what appeared to be one of the bulkiest sacks among the several other bags that the men happened to drag along with them.

"Just hold onto it tight. I'll tell you when you can bring it here," Duncan commanded as he shot the youth an annoyed expression, his face devoid of any sympathy towards the sheer weight the overworked teenager had been hoisting around. Yet, the scrawny brunette simply saluted compliantly, a buck-toothed grin etched cheerfully upon his face as his struggled to grasp the sack more efficiently, only for it to seemingly deflate and inflate steadily from underneath him…

"Where'd all of… this… _stuff_ come from?" Geoff questioned hesitantly as he warily glanced at the items the men carried in their arms. He never ordered them to loot or ransack anyone; _hell_, he never even knew that there was anything to rob in this miserably forsaken island.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Duncan smirked proudly, shouting out to the crew as he signaled them to come closer with a wave of his hand.

Once everyone was huddled behind Duncan's back, with the exception of Geoff who was facing him as he stood at the foot of the shoreline, all became quiet as the murmuring ceased.

"Captain," his first-mate grinned widely at him as his azure eyes twinkled with the oddly distinctive impression that he knew something Geoff didn't, "these past few hours have been slightly exhausting, but quite fun. We practically ran around the island half mindless, threw sand in each other's faces, and some of us even brought rum along with us and managed to get tipsy along the way."

As he said this, he shot an indiscreet look at their cabin boy, Ezekiel, who immediately blushed in embarrassment. Everyone chuckled under their breaths.

Rookies.

"Well, anyways, aside from all that," he continued, that impish smile never leaving his face, "we fell upon some interesting… _goodies_.

"Hatchet, bring the loot you're carrying over here," he called out from behind himself, motioning for an extremely buff and intimidating African American with a gaping hole between his teeth to stand beside him as he held a bulging sack in his iron grip.

There was a moment of still silence as Duncan instructed with heavy authority in his voice, "Open the bag for our captain to see."

Geoff instantly felt his throat become dry as their ship's chef, Hatchet, untied the knots from the thick rope binding the bag, completely unprepared for what he saw next.

Gold. Layers and layers of pure, gold coins made up the contents of that single sack—so much so, in fact—that the valuable metal begin spilling out of the hefty bag in a flood of dazzling yellow.

After having finally found his voice at last, too shocked to have said anything a few seconds ago, Geoff stuttered, "Whe-where did you get all _this_?" He shifted a stiff hand to point his index finger at the other protruding bags the crew grasped in their arms, almost seeming as if they didn't ever want to let go of whatever precious treasures laid inside.

Duncan's confident grin remained in place as he gladly gave the baffled man a much deserved explanation.

"It turns out all this time that we were wrong, buddy. There _are_ people on this island. In fact, there was a whole village filled to the brim with gold and expensive artifacts, and they had been hiding from us all along on nearly the opposite side of this end.

It took a bit of walking, but not only did we accidentally find them—we also found their _huge_ stack of wealth as well!" The captain's preferred pal smiled wickedly as he audaciously snickered, "And we figured since they had so much booty to spare, we might as well enjoy some for ourselves… or more like _all_ of it."

Everyone waited expectantly for Geoff's reaction, but once he spoke, it was not the response Duncan had hoped to hear, "How do you know there are people on this island? You told me there weren't."

The raven haired first-mate wanted to face palm. Of course; leave it to Geoff to be so utterly oblivious that he hadn't even fully comprehended his first few sentences. It was as if he hadn't even been listening to begin with. Unless…

Duncan's turquoise eyes squinted strangely at him, examining his form, until he finally considered, "You don't believe me? Is that it?"

Geoff's blue orbs scanned every one of his comrades intently, remaining reflectively quiet for a few seconds until he replied, "You told me that there weren't any people living here before. Now you suddenly tell me that there are. It's not that I don't believe you. It's just that… I'm a little confused."

Duncan's previously questioning look graced into a full blown smile as he thought to himself in amusement. Good ole' Geoff. He was confused as always. Well, he supposed that maybe the plans he had laid out for him would finally help him clear his mind...

"I can easily give you proof," he insisted, his smile growing into a satisfied smirk as the captain now curiously gazed up at him in newfound intrigue. "Cody, hand me the bag you were assigned to carry."

The same chocolate haired, scrawny little buck toothed teenager that had once been lugging the dead weight of the aforementioned sack slowly stepped forward, a frightened expression scurrying upon his features. He had come forward as Duncan had commanded.

But currently, he appeared to be unmistakably empty-handed.

He squirmed nervously under Duncan's alarmingly vindictive stare as his icy cobalt eyes burned holes through the brunette's head.

"Where is it?" he demanded angrily, yet his tone deceivingly esteemed itself as containing somewhat of a calm edge, when inwardly, Duncan felt _far_ from being calm.

"I—I," The young boy known as Cody stammered fearfully, "I—I—I tried bringing the—the bag over here but—but I couldn't 'cause it started moving and—and I think she's awake!"

"What?!" he hissed viciously at the lad, unable to hide his quickly developing wrath any longer. "What do you mean she's _awake_?! Where is she?! Is she still in the bag at least?!"

"Yeah—yeah," Cody cried in reassurance as he anxiously covered his head with his arms as a means of protection, all the while pointing a trembling finger over his shoulder. "She—she should still be in there. She—she's still tied up and—and everything!"

Duncan's furious gaze keyed in on the area Cody was jabbing at, irately noticing that the sack was laying in the hot sand a good twenty feet away from everyone else where it should _not_ be.

The rebellious pirate roughly shoved past the inexperienced novice as he made his way towards the direction of the wriggling sack, coarsely jerking it over his shoulder as he callously stomped back over to where Geoff had been standing, motionless and eyes bulging in bewilderment. He carelessly dropped the burlap container three feet away from where Geoff stood near the refreshing shoreline, muffled shouts of protests now faintly audible from within the bag itself. Duncan was internally seething as he ripped off the thick, knotted ropes tied firmly around the sack, drawing his forceful hand inside it as his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves strongly around soft tufts of smooth blonde hair.

In a shocking instant, Duncan unkindly pulled out the securely fastened body of a young blonde, hazel eyed woman, approximately about eighteen years of age, give or take a few years. He seemed to be tactlessly dragging the girl out of the burlap sack by the golden roots of her ponytail, harshly towing her petite form out of her containment until she was in clear view of everyone's line of vision.

He swiftly bent down on his knees to meet the lowly level of her rigid figure, which was bundled up stiffly by burning ropes. He craned his neck on his left side as he predatorily studied her terrified face; her shrieking had already ceased by the time her yellowish orbs had come into visual contact with his merciless, azure ones.

"I'll take the gag out of your mouth if you promise not to scream," he whispered inaudibly into her ear; although his suddenly hushed demeanor belied the malicious consequences that would automatically ensue should she dare to even breathe a single syllable.

She nodded furiously and dreadfully in muted compliance as her eyes widened helplessly in horror.

At having received her forceful acquiescence, Duncan, in a brief change of character, gently removed the dirty rag obstructing her parted lips. "And who says pirates can't be gentlemen?" he grinned nastily.

Geoff, his sapphire eyes completely disbelieving as he watched the aggressive way Duncan was man-handling this woman, finally came out of his shaken stupor as he demanded with a guttural shout, "What the _hell_ is going on here?!"

After having freed the young female of her binds, Duncan gripped her arms callously and brutally as he yanked her forward towards Geoff as if she were a lifeless rag doll.

"Consider her a gift," he smirked arrogantly at his best friend, "from all of us."

"_What?!" _Geoff bellowed incredulously, his facial expression made up of one of utter panic and chaotic disorder.

"She's yours," Duncan tried again, beginning to grow very impatient with him, "you know, for _fun_."

"_**What?!**_" Geoff repeated himself, only his voice echoed into an octave much louder this time as he stared back in a crazed frenzy.

Duncan, by this point having wholly lost his patience, blurted irritably, "She's your _fu—_"

"—my _play_ thing, right?!" Geoff interrupted furiously, his cerulean eyes now blazing with pure, unadulterated anger.

His erect posture suddenly bent over in a flash as he allowed his shaking form to fall onto the ground in order to prevent his enraged self from committing anything rash against his childhood friend. His trembling hands dug into the grainy, golden earth beneath him, as he fisted heavy clumps of sand as if they were his anchors from doing anything regrettable.

He absolutely could not believe what the crew—what _Duncan_—had allowed to occur; had deemed _acceptable _to take place.

First they had claimed that the island was completely deserted, and like the faithful captain he was, he had decided to believe them. But now, out of the random blue, they had all come back with mountains and heaps of stolen treasure bundled in their greedy arms with crooked smiles plastered onto their smug faces, telling him that there _were_ in fact, unidentified locals living on this presumably abandoned island.

And then—_then_, they had had the outright _audacity_ to kidnap a living, breathing human girl conveniently close to his age so that they could bring her forth as an actual present—almost as if she were some sort of sparkly trinket that he could own as a possession! And now—now, they wanted him to—to _use_ her as he pleased, as if she were his sexy little screw toy!

Just what kind of man did they think he was?! He—he didn't need a sex slave! What they were planning—what they were trying to make him do—it—it went against _everything _he stood for!

It was _rape_!

And he couldn't believe… he couldn't believe… that out of all the men here, _Duncan_ would even permit such a—such a—

He couldn't even finish thinking that last sentence; not when he was this infuriated!

He was _so _angry. So **angry**, he could—he could…

Geoff swallowed thickly as he clamped his eyes shut, slowly gritting his teeth as he whispered in a grating, feral growl, "Take. Her. Back."

After several seconds of having received no response, he finally opened his eyes to see an _extremely _pissed Duncan glowering murderously back at him. His rather fierce look almost caused Geoff to jolt in surprise. But instead, he mustered up another glare that rivaled that of the first-mate's.

"What the hell is your problem?" Duncan grumbled at last, his tone anything but friendly. "We just gave you one of our best prizes. You should be _grateful_."

"Grateful?" Geoff snorted, his frown deepening with every word Duncan had said. "Why should I be grateful?! I don't need a bed warmer," he scowled, cautiously standing up to better meet Duncan's leveled gaze.

But his best friend merely stared long and hard at him until he let loose a humorless laugh.

"You're an _idiot_, Geoff. This is the thanks we get for being nice? For trying to help you?"

"_Help_ me?!" he questioned incredulously, biting the inside of his cheek in indignation, choosing his next words carefully, "How exactly does abducting an innocent woman to unwillingly serve as my personal… uh, _whatever_… help me?"

"Funny you should ask that," Duncan snappishly scorned, derision in his voice as he continued.

"You know what, Geoff? Lately, you haven't been acting like yourself at all. I've noticed that—_we've_ all noticed that," he emphasized his point as he motioned to the rest of their shipmates, "and frankly, it's really been getting on all our nerves.

"We've given you almost every remedy we could think of; stealing, gambling, tobacco, fighting!" he hastily counted them off as he listed some examples using his fingers. "Hell, even rum didn't work! We had thought up of just about everything that would do a pirate some good. But that's when it suddenly hit me!"

In one swift motion, he gave a violent shove at the blonde woman he was still holding captive, roughly pinching her arms as he waved her in Geoff's face. "_This_," he proclaimed, digging his nails deeply into her flesh, "is what you really need. I honestly can't believe I didn't see it before! I mean guys, when was the last time Geoff felt like a _man_?"

"I don't want to keep a prisoner on this ship!" the captain screamed, his face turning scarlet as he vehemently fumed at Duncan.

"Then don't think of her as a prisoner!" he admonished with great irritation. "She's more like a… naughty entertainer," he sneered maliciously, painfully elbowing the small female in her ribs as he contemptuously teased her. "Isn't that correct? You're gonna be a bad girl for my buddy here, right?"

She tearfully whimpered under his unyielding grip as he viciously resumed in mocking her.

With every ruthless slap, shove, pinch, and stinging insult Duncan imprinted on her, Geoff felt a compassionate twinge of pain and hurt as he looked into her glistening eyes, brimmed with unshed tears of absolute fear and sadness. All of a sudden, something in Geoff violently snapped as boiling rage took an unexpected hold of his body, driving him to the very brink.

In a flash of righteous fury, Geoff made a grab for the hilt of his sword and before anyone knew it, its sharp edge was only millimeters away from Duncan's throat, freezing in midair before it had the chance to pierce his skin.

In his astonishment, Duncan had dropped the female in his arms, his body instinctively on alert as he prepared himself for defense mode.

"TAKE HER BACK!" Geoff demanded, his facial expression burning with so much fervent passion that his once calm blue eyes seemed to have lit on fire.

While Duncan had been surprised at first, he quickly regained his composure, his own form having gone completely rigid as he wrathfully glared back at Geoff in unmistakable _hatred_. His steely ice blue eyes narrowed dangerously as he clenched his fists, all but whispering, "I _really_ wouldn't do that if I were you."

Geoff said nothing as he kept his sword steadily pointed at Duncan, obvious pain in his eyes as he begged, "Please, Duncan. Don't make me do this. I—I can't do what you're asking me to do. It's wrong. It's wrong and you know it."

Duncan merely spat in his face, snarling with every breath, "Damn, Geoff. Did you ever become weak. Look at yourself, turning on your own friend for some worthless little wench. I hope you're proud of yourself. I can't believe how pathetic; how _insignificant_ you've become. You've let your conscience rule your life. You're not yourself anymore, and never will be. You are not the same man I grew up knowing."

Everyone had been utterly frozen in their spots up until this point. Even the fair haired woman who had frightfully scrambled away from Duncan the moment he had dropped her simply could not find the strength or the willpower to bring herself away from the intense dispute, somehow feeling as though she was partially to blame for this mess.

Pleading azure orbs connected with unforgiving teal; their eye colors were practically the same, yet their owners were truly nothing alike. One was fighting for justice. The other was fighting only because he had the power to do so. As close as the two had been in the past, none of it seemed to matter anymore. It was as if their entire history together magically disappeared, their very friendship having evaporated into thin, untraceable smoke.

"I'm not insignificant for having a conscience. In fact, I'd say I'm stronger because I've gained a sense of what's right versus what's wrong. If having morals makes me a weaker person, then I'd rather be a pathetic weakling over being a pathetic ass," Geoff mumbled, an unwavering firmness in his tone as he said this.

"Put that sword down right now or you're going to get it," Duncan hazardously threatened, having totally ignored the other male's speech.

Geoff sent him a withering look at his seeming inability to _feel_, his sword gradually descending as he realized his words weren't getting through to him.

Without delay, there appeared a deadly glint in his eye as Duncan howled madly, "Now you're going to get it!"

In the blink of an eye, before anyone had had the chance to see it coming, two heavy, echoing bangs went off as Geoff immediately sunk to his knees, his figure crouched over in the sand.

An empty scream belonging to that of a certain girl pierced through the cloudy sky as it suddenly began to drizzle lightly, the fresh raindrops rapidly mixing in with the splatters of crimson blood that now ran through the veins of the earth.

Duncan slowly bent down to catch his victim's face as he unfeelingly stared into Geoff's injured eyes, his breathing becoming ragged from the bullet wounds to his right shoulder and his left leg.

"You wanna hear something funny, Captain," he breathed, smiling cruelly as he hummed softly into his ear, "we were planning on mutinying against you anyway. Except, of course, the pesky little pain in the ass known as my conscience was keeping me from doing it. But now," he grinned gleefully in sadistic satisfaction, "I know that it was only getting in my way. Good thing I didn't listen to it, no?"

Geoff shuddered involuntarily as he struggled to block out the pain, but it was all too much. Combined with the pain of losing who he used to consider his only best friend, the gun wounds had merely been the bittersweet icing on the cake.

"Oh, and I'll take that," Duncan spitefully smirked as he snatched the captain's hat Geoff was wearing clear off his head, replacing it with a different master, symbolizing his new rank.

"Men, move out," he commanded as he forcefully established his newfound role as leader of the nefarious_ Bloody Skull_.

The rest of the crew began piling onto the ship straight away, trekking solemnly with their stolen fortune in hand as they wordlessly moved past Geoff, completely disregarding him altogether. As of this minute, he no longer existed to them anymore. He was meaningless; inconsequential and entirely worthless.

"D-Duncan," he whispered hoarsely to his former friend, his cerulean orbs glazed over with unbelievable grief and disgust, "you make me _sick_."

"That's _Captain_ Duncan to you," the pirate barked heartlessly as his cold, menacing eyes glanced once more at the downcast figure of the damaged man before him, his spilt blood strewn carelessly all over the damp shore.

And as Duncan finally sailed away, not even a single pang of remorse or pity dared to wash over him; he wasn't upset even in the slightest. If anything, he had won more than he had lost—Geoff had been nothing more than dead weight to him, holding him back from his true potential.

Meanwhile, the ex-criminal remained writhing in absolute anguish in the soaking sand, until the young blonde woman from earlier scampered over to his aid, hastily ripping off the hem of her skirts as she attempted to dress his wounds with the little that she had.

As the tiny female began to quickly patch up his injuries, for the first time, Geoff was able to get a really good look at this woman without being distracted by his anger.

Full, rosy pink lips; smooth, pale cheeks; a wonderfully slender body; thick locks of golden, feathery hair; and the most amazing hazel eyes he had ever seen in his entire life, were what he saw when he gazed at this truly stunning woman.

She was so beautiful, it was breathtaking.

"Thank you," she murmured sorrowfully, her voice nearly cracking as she struggled not to cry.

"Ah, so the angel speaks," Geoff mused aloud as he grinned softly at her, feeling a bit light-headed as he drank in her marvelous presence. "But why thank me? There's no need. _I_ should be the one thanking you. You're trying to save my life here."

The still trembling lady now choked back a sob as she whimpered, "Don't talk like that. I'm not trying to save you—I _will_ save you."

Geoff glanced up at her in complete and total awe at her unrelenting determination, moved by her wondrous kindness and compassion.

"And when I said thank you, I meant thank you for standing up for me," she gently clarified, applying pressure to his wound as she squeezed the blood-stained wrap around his arm. She had already finished bandaging his leg by the time Geoff spoke up again.

"What's your name, gorgeous?" he asked quietly, that content little grin never quite leaving his face.

"Bridgette," she answered meekly, a misty blush spreading across her cheeks at the casual compliment.

"Really?" Geoff sighed, gasping slightly as Bridgette carefully adjusted his form so that he was temporarily cradled in her delicate grasp. "That's a beautiful name."

Bridgette quietly nodded as she stared down at him worriedly, concern etched warily into her tender features.

"I've strapped your injuries tightly enough, so that should help stop the bleeding as your blood begins clotting. I also happen to know a secret shortcut to the village in which I live in, so I won't have to walk that far as I carry you."

"Wait, but you don't have to do that I can—"

"—_not _move a muscle," Bridgette instructed sternly, her topaz colored eyes blinking seriously as she reminded him of his condition. "Don't worry about it," she assured, "I'm stronger than I look. I will be able to carry you just fine. My village really isn't far from here if I take the shortcut."

Geoff exhaled tiredly as he consented, automatically finding himself able to trust every word she said even though he never actually met her before. For some reason, she just seemed so honest and caring and loving and—

"I'm so sorry," she shivered sadly as she grimaced down at him with a mournful attitude.

"Sorry for what?" his peaceful demeanor faltered slightly as he took in her cheerless face, feeling a small piece of his heart crumble inside.

"I'm sorry for what happened between you and your old… friend," she elucidated hesitantly, watching for any signs should his relaxed facial expression fade from view. At having registered no prominent hints of sadness or anger, she continued, "I'm also very sorry that I got in the way. I must admit, I feel a little guilty for causing everything to—"

"No," Geoff insisted somberly as he shared an all too serious gaze with Bridgette, suddenly finding himself wanting to softly stroke her cheek in reassurance, but resisted the urge not to.

"Everything that happened was mine and Duncan's fault. You can't be held responsible for his cold-blooded actions and my rash behavior. You shouldn't be sorry at all. If anything, I should be," he mumbled. "And besides, I couldn't care less anymore about whatever happens to him. Turns out he wasn't exactly as great of a friend as I thought him to be."

"But don't you feel sad about how he betrayed you?" Bridgette questioned doubtfully, as she began to cautiously lift him from the ground, prepared to carry him a short distance's away towards the village, where he could better seek medical attention.

"Bridgette," Geoff murmured soothingly, finally giving in to his previous urge as he gingerly caressed her smooth face, "look at me."

The golden haired beauty warmly met his fond stare as he gently whispered, "No regrets," wearing the faintest of smiles as he passed out in her arms.

* * *

**A/N: **At last, it's done. Wow. I do believe that this is the longest story in this series so far.

Hey, well I can't say I'm not proud of myself. x)

But anyways, mind doing me a favor by clicking that good ole' review button? I'd love to know what you think.


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